Finding Acceptance at the Library

The spring is the season when I feature the best student work from my essay class at Atlantic Cape Community College as we try to develop the next generation of “Joyriders.” This week’s column is by Corrine Errico, an alumna of Cape May County Technical High School.         
National Library Week is April 8-14 and for me, the Cape May County Library was a place where I could fit in.  
A flight of stairs separates quiet library-goers from a cult of awkward teens who bloomed off of a simple 12-sided die. 
Not every bookworm and movie connoisseur who passes through the heavy double doors of the Cape May County Library knows about the room below. It’s a chasm of lost reality. From toddlers to senior citizens, anyone could delve into these quarters and find an activity where they thrived. 
It’s where I found my tribe of local misfits.
My adventure had started with a panicked transition of books. When I walked up the stone steps of the Court House branch of the Cape May County Library, I felt a feeling of acceptance. The double doors and air conditioning were heavy, protecting the history and knowledge that lies behind it. 
The second floor was known for its historical and autobiographical selection. These books could tell you how to make stew with potatoes or learn the life of that one actress who you couldn’t stop watching.
The first floor has Stephen King, Nora Roberts, J.K. Rowling and George R. Martin telling me that “winter is coming.” Along with films and music, it was teens that thrived most on this floor.
Entering what was known as the Teen Room, bodies of over-sprayed Axe and un-kept hair littered the dark, blue space. Sweat formed on my palms as I reached for the first book that looked appealing.
Just as I reached the front desk, the BO-scented assembly migrated their way down the stairs.
“What’s going on down there?” I asked the librarian.
“Oh, it’s Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) on the bottom floor, from 3-5 p.m. every Wednesday night,” she explained.
The thought of people who played D&D gave me reassurance.
That following week, with permission from my mom, I rode my bike the three miles to the library from my house.
Descending to the bottom floor, the voices of the unfamiliar grew louder and louder.
“Yes sure, the Ogre is wearing jean shorts and has a purple nose ring,” one echoed up the stairwell. “Yes, he can work at Hot Topic too.”
When the library staff noticed my new face in the doorway, I was immediately welcomed.
With all of us together, the room was made up of our emotions during the campaigns. Sometimes it would be quiet and serious, other times it would be loud and joyous. From that night on, I couldn’t wait for Wednesday to come around.
The room under the library banded together the oddballs of Cape May County. Some of us had piercings, others were the saints of Istanbul, yet we all sat in the same chairs, for the same game, at the same time, in the same room, and for the same outcome – to be accepted.
I now work at the library in the summer as a librarian’s assistant and I see how the room has changed into a water-color class. In the five years it has been since I was a dungeon crawler, the other party members have grown up or moved to bigger and better castles.
The lessening numbers of new adventurers worry me. Not only for the room under the library, but the dangers teens could be facing alone.
Keith Forrest is a tenured associate professor of communication at Atlantic Cape Community College. His late mother Libby Demp Forrest Moore wrote the Joyride column for this newspaper for 20 years.